The Adrenaline Room
by kiss.her.already
Summary: (AU) Dr. Hermione Granger was ready to reform an unfair justice system. Inmate Tom Riddle, unfortunately, was ready to play a little dirty.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Well, I've been reading fanfiction since middle school and decided it was finally time to write my own. I wanted to say upfront, I will never write graphic sexual assault, and I will try to put warnings for chapters that have explicit content. I feel that a relationship between darker characters will obviously not be especially healthy, so just as a disclaimer I wanted to kind of explain my thought process. I think you can safely have fantasies and enjoy stories about unhealthy relationships without necessarily approving of it/engaging in it. If you find yourself genuinely romanticizing abuse, (I found myself doing that at one point) it's nothing to be ashamed of. However, I'd recommend talking about it with an actual professional. Fantasy should be just fantasy. We can all get into stories with bad boys and dubious consent, but I think it's important to also remember it's not as fun in real life. I was sexually assaulted, and it really changed my perspective, especially with respect to how I read now. I love a kind of unhealthy Tomione fic as much as the next person, but please be careful in real life, guys. With all that said, thanks for reading! Love you! 3**

Dark jade swirls, almost ribbon-like, were sliding against her skin, tangling in her hair. They felt too slick to be velvet, too thin to be cloth, too _fucking_ suffocating to be air. Her head was stuffy and hot, and as she gasped for breath, the ribbons of jade, swirled down her throat clinging to every surface of her body. It was encompassing and overwhelming and terrible, but just like she had every early dawn, Hermione rolled on her side, cracked open her crusty eyelids, and woke up.

Hurriedly cramming her laptop and papers in her briefcase, Hermione dashed out of her flat, her hair already escaping from her tight bun. She was going to be late to work again. Every night she kept having the same stupid dream that would leave her exhausted in the morning- and also very late. It was humiliating that she who had advocated so much for the prison study program would break her near perfect record of punctuality and be late for its initial week. She blew a wild tendril of hair out of her eyes and wiped her forehead. This summer in London had hit record high temperatures. It was utterly miserable.

She sped up as she spotted the guard shack outside, sweat trickling down the back of her thigh.

"Good morning, Hagrid!"

"Mornin' Doctor! A wee bit late again, eh?" the burly guard laughed.

Hermione grimaced and headed past the wire gate, toward the imposing, gray building. She scanned her badge and sprinted to the prison governor's office. Being late on a normal day was bad enough, but the humiliation was altogether crippling as she made her way into Lucius Malfoy's office.

"Good morning Dr. Granger, kind of you to join us," his sneering tone seemed to indicate otherwise. "We were just beginning to discuss the commencement and procedures of your program. However, I think it best that the guards receive the briefing from you."

Hermione smiled uncomfortably and looked around at the room. Lucius Malfoy, prison governor, sat in a large armchair, his aristocratic features resting in a permanent look of disdain. To his left the offender supervisor, Severus Snape, watched her, his face schooled in equally disdainful manner. A few other prison officers were clustered in the room with similar expressions, and Hermione wondered if it a requirement that prison officials maintain disgusted looks on their faces at all times. The only friendly face was that of Albus Dumbledore, the older chaplain. He gave her a soft shrug, and made room for her on the ivory couch across from Lucius.

"I do apologize for my tardiness; this really normally isn't like me," she stuttered. "I have all the paperwork and procedural logs with me now," she was stumbling now and reached for her briefcase. All eyes in the room were focused on her.

"I don't think the paperwork is necessary, Dr. Granger. Perhaps, just a brief overview so the officers can direct the guards?" Severus drawled.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The stress and the heat and the inability to get a good night's rest really was doing a number on her. She quickly regained her composure and addressed the meeting.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Dr. Hermione Granger, and I'm a psychiatrist with a specialty in forensic psychiatry in correctional facilities. I'm interested in both the experiences of inmates that led them to crime, as well as refining current practices of therapy in prisons. I hope to institute federal programs that will improve the standard of mental health with those at risk and with those currently in the system. With Mr. Malfoy's consent, I, alongside my team, will be studying your facility for two years and recording data that will be used to reform and regulate current practices. Any questions?"

Eventually, they established that Hermione would be meeting with select prisoners who had been recommended for further mental health screenings by previous psychiatrists, as well as random members of general population. Her team would provide questionnaires for guards to hand out to inmates who could optionally submit their answers to her study.

Everything was planned perfectly, and Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly smug as she noticed several of the prison officers finally stopped looking so disdainful. Apparently Lucius noticed it too which would explain his hastiness in dismissing her from his office. As she got up to leave, Albus Dumbledore, touched her hand.

"Should you ever need anything, please come talk to me. You'd be surprised what men can confess to before god."

It was later that day. Hermione fidgeted with her clipboard, waiting for her first interview with patient Tom Riddle Jr. His record was extensive beginning with his early life. He was exactly what she had expected to find in her study: an adolescent deprived of opportunity, never having a stable home environment or any sort of mentorship. The system had failed him, and now, he would end up with poor psychiatric care in a dingey prison, with even fewer opportunities than he had before.

Tom Riddle shuffled in, escorted by prison guards holding his hands behind his back. Still, Hermione was surprised by his cool elegance. She also supposed he was the most classically attractive man she'd ever seen, but she dismissed the thought quickly. It was unprofessional and a mere distraction in the face of everything she was working for. She tore her eyes away from him and fumbled with her clipboard again.

Tom raised an eyebrow, "So where shall we begin, doctor?"

"Well, I trust you were briefed on the details of my study?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, it was read to me by an almost illiterate guard from outside my cell," Tom said drily. "Perhaps you could elucidate me on the finer points of my participation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but in exchange for my involvement, I would receive an appeal and likely a lighter sentence?"

Hermione nodded in affirmation, "However, you would have to participate in sessions, sometimes multiple times a week, as well as complete any questionnaires and data points that are provided to you."

Tom waved his hand, "Alright. Then let's begin."

Hermione was a bit taken back by his ease of asserting dominance but still switched on her recorder.

"So Tom, tell me a little about your crime. And please, let's use our given names, I want this to be an authentic discussion not stilted by formalities. Call me Hermione."

He laughed, "Well it's a long story, really. But I'm in for murder. Will these records ever be made public? Or can they be used in court?"

As Hermione explained to him that they were purely for research purposes only, a wide grin stretched across Tom's face. His eyes burned with intensity as he stared directly at her, unblinking.

"Manslaughter. The girl's name was Myrtle."

Hermione licked her lips, "So Myrtle? How did Myrtle make you feel? In what ways were you involved with her?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say involved. She made me feel annoyed. But really, this whole Myrtle thing, it's kind of boring, honestly. I've talked about it over and over with investigators and psychiatrists; I'm really rather over it. Let's talk about what you're here for," he smirked. "You look like an upright young woman; what's your interest in prisoners for? You could go into private practice and make a few more pounds listening to teenagers whine about their sad existences. So why this?"

Hermione frowned, it was a clever deflection. She would have to be careful with this one, but it wasn't her first time dealing with a manipulative patient.

"I'm interested in reforming a system with so much injustice; it's much more meaningful to me than any amount of money. But Tom, that being said, I'm going to require a little more cooperation from you. We don't have to discuss Myrtle, but how about your childhood. Thinking back on it, how does it make you feel?"

"I respect your ambition to make an actual change in the world. It feels like so much of this world is an auto-pilot, everyone lives like they're in some sort of trance. Doing what their fathers did, and what their fathers did before them. Sure, they change, but not really. No one does anything extraordinary by themselves. It just feels so stagnant. To me, my childhood was the same way. It was just a dark reflection of people living their own lives, I suppose. I grew up in an orphanage; no one really paid attention to anyone. It was abusive in the way all of those places are. Too many unwanted kids, too many underpaid and greedy people, living without too much thought of their actual purpose in life. It disgusts me, Hermione," Tom gritted his teeth. "Let me guess, you grew up in an upper-middle class home, attended a ranked university, and were told you would make a difference? That disgusts me too, Hermione."

She willed herself to remember their roles in the conversation. This was a study, and he was the subject.

"Look at me. Do you think you're better than me? I'm a poor orphan boy that misbehaved as a result of a poor childhood? Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm interested in a more complete view of our justice system. I never meant to make you feel lesser in this conversation in any way. I'm interested in your experiences, and how I can use them to help others. If everything feels so stagnant to you, how about you help me make a change?"

Tom gave her a large smile, "I wasn't expecting to like you, Hermione. But, I'm finding I really do. Now, I could tell you some secrets about this whole facility that would only slightly expose the dark underbelly of the justice system. You want to reform it? Maybe you shouldn't focus so much on the individuals locked away, but also on the ones with the keys." His lips quirked up, "How much do you know about Lucius Malfoy?"

Hermione's eyebrows creased together, "What do you mean?"

"Lucius' son has a pretty bloody history, but his daddy keeps him out of too much trouble with some pretty unscrupulous methods. I'd recommend looking into the case. Just a peek into the system you want to reform."

"So do you know of any other cases of corruption in this facility?"

Tom laughed and laughed and laughed. By the end, his laugh was wheezy, "Oh Hermione, love, this whole facility is a sham. But if you want more information, you have to do some things for me."

"That's not how this works! You cooperate with me and provide information, and you get your appeal in exchange," Hermione hissed.

"Believe me, I don't even need the appeal. I'm doing this for fun. Now today, the favor isn't much. Just tell me more about yourself. I like you, Hermione," he gave his unsettlingly wide smile again. "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

Hermione was horrified. Was he… flirting? "This is highly unprofessional. I'm sorry, Tom, but unfortunately-"

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me anything. Good luck," he pursed his lips as to hold back a laugh.

Hermione glowered and lied, "I have a boyfriend. His name is Ronald Weasley."

Tom lazily raised an eyebrow. "Are you happy with him?"

"Yes, very."

"Well, I suppose you want your reward now. Go to Severus Snape, and say you know about Draco. See what he says."

They stared at each other in silence.

Finally Tom grinned innocently, "Oh, look at the time! An hour already. See you soon, Hermione."

She clicked the tape recorder off. Yet, she couldn't stop staring at his eyes even as the guards walked him out.

 **Updates will prolly be weekly :)**


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't have a boyfriend. And she couldn't decide if it was more ridiculous or humiliating that her first patient could unnerve her in such a way. She dreaded ever meeting with him again. Yet he was rather magnetic, and if what he was saying was true, she might uncover a whole conspiracy of corruption. She helped log data points from questionnaires for the rest of the day but could never quite focus her mind on her work.

It was approaching six, and Hermione made her way to the offender supervisor's office. She knocked several times, and after a long pause a deep voice drawled, "You may enter."

She waved awkwardly. Her curiosity and will for justice propelled her forward, but _god_ was it awkward. She stood in the doorway before repeating Tom's words verbatim.

"I know about Draco."

Severus glanced up at her behind piles of paperwork, "I don't know what you think you're talking about."

"I know about Draco," she insisted, but felt herself going red. Had Tom played some sort of joke on her?

The table shook as Severus stood abruptly and slammed the door of the office shut.

"I thought you were a doctor. Aren't you supposed to be smart? You would talk about Draco with the door open?" Severus massaged his forehead, "I suppose, I should've expected Tom Riddle would tell you. Yes, it might've been Draco's fault that Myrtle died. How much did Riddle say?"

Hermione shrugged, "Not much."

"Do yourself a favor, and leave it at that."

"No! I deserve to learn the truth. What do you mean?"

Severus gave a long sigh. "Have you heard of horcrux?"

She had. As a psychiatrist she was acutely aware of street drugs and their popularity. Horcrux was the newest in a line of stimulants, but it had multiple effects. Said to make the user feel 'immortal,' the drug would make the victim energized and unable to feel pain, yet it came at a terrible cost. It caused extreme paranoia, and many murders had resulted from users' paranoid drug-induced hallucinations. The creator of the drug, some street chemist, was nicknamed Voldemort. No one was quite sure of his identity, but several investigations revealed that people could buy horcrux from any local dealer affiliated with the Death Eaters mob.

Severus continued, "Draco was found high on horcrux with the corpse of a young girl named Myrtle. Horcrux had been forcibly administered to her. Lucius convinced the police to drop charges on Draco and prosecute Tom Riddle instead. There was enough circumstantial evidence to get a conviction, so," Severus shrugged. "I wouldn't say Tom was quite so innocent either."

Hermione was horrified. What was the point of evaluating the mental health of people in the prison system and identifying triggers for violence if some of them were innocent to begin with? She wanted to make a difference, and it seemed that she had stumbled into an interesting dilemma: should she continue to try to change the system or try to scrub it clean of the filthy layers of corruption. She left Severus' office extraordinarily uncomfortable.

Hermione walked home in silence. The sweat trickling down her neck really didn't help the situation. What was she to do? The evening passed quickly, and she awoke to the same dream she had every night. Tangling her hair up into a loose bun and sliding on a pressed skirt, Hermione once again headed out to the prison.

It felt like a blur. It was difficult to concentrate on collecting data points without wondering which points were inaccurate due to the failures of the justice system.

Her next patient, Fenrir Greyback, shuffled into the cramped interview room. Hermione was acutely aware of their proximity because of his stench. She tapped on her recorder and began the session.

"So what are you in here for, Fenrir?"

"Horcrux got me in here, and it'll keep me here," he rasped.

Hermione made note on her clipboard of his matted hair, his brown teeth, and glassy eyes.

"I see… Now could you tell me about your first time using horcrux? Where were you, who gave you access?"

"My first time usin', well, I got it near Knockturn Alley. Had some friends around there. We all worked shit jobs. Liivin' just to survive, y'know? And actually," he scratched his ear then cackled. "Actually, the same people sell me horcrux! Wanna know a secret?" He leaned forward, "Officer Bellatrix Black takes tokens."

"As in Prison Officer Bellatrix Black? What are tokens?"

"Same one!" giggled Fenrir. His hands were beginning to tremble. "That Bellatrix, she's a nasty one! I'd kill for a quick shag with her and a hundred milligrams of horcrux."He ignored her question about tokens.

Hermione watched as the shaking spread to his whole body. He was practically vibrating in his seat. He's filthy teeth chattered together.

"Got some more questions, Doc?"

Hermione, despite having many more questions, shook her head, "Well Fenrir, the hour's almost up anyway. Should I send you to the infirmary?"

Fenrir rolled his eyes and chattered out, "No thanks, it'll pass soon enough. They never take your tokens if you have to go to the damn nurse."

Hermione frowned, "Please, I'd rather just call-"

"I'll take my chances. Now get me the fuck out of here."

Hermione had been dreading her next session with Tom, and it came all too quickly. He had an enormous smirk on his face as he entered the room.

"Hello, Hermione," he made himself comfortable in the cold, metal, interview chair. She hesitantly clicked the recorder on. Tom waited for her to speak.

"Well, I spoke to Snape…" she trailed off, unsure where to start. Was Tom actually innocent? She felt disgusted with herself for thinking of him and treating him as if he was guilty, and she had no idea how to approach the situation. Moreover, a prison guard potentially selling drugs to an inmate? Tokens? Where was she to begin?

Tom's lips were pursed, as if he were suppressing a smile.

"I trust you are beginning to understand what I meant before. Oh, Hermione, it only gets worse. Trust me, this isn't a good place," Tom leaned toward her. "You want to know more secrets?"

Hermione's mouth was completely dry.

"How about we talk a little bit more about you first, and then we discuss this place," she said, hoping to god he would let her gain control of the conversation.

Tom nodded slowly, and sat back in his chair.

"So did you kill Myrtle?"

Tom laughed, "Well, you certainly cut right to the chase. I didn't kill her. I really don't touch horcrux, disgusting stuff, y'know?"

Hermione did know. After seeing Fenrir, she had trouble understanding why anyone would subject themselves to that kind of torture.

"So Lucius framed you?"

"I wouldn't say it in such strong terms around here. Lucius doesn't take kindly to anyone who speaks out of line."

"Does he know about any guards involvement with horcrux?"

Tom gave her a mischievous smile. "Now, now Hermione, you know the rules. You give me a favor, and I'll give you a secret."

Hermione glanced at the recorder and back at Tom.

"What do you want?"

Tom smirked and looked her up and down, "I could think of a couple of things, actually."

Hermione flushed.

Tom leaned forward in his chair again, his eyes glittering. "How's Ron?"

Hermione frowned, and Tom laughed. "Ron won't mind if I just touch your hair, right? Let me touch your hair, Hermione. That's the cost for today."

Hermione grimaced. His hands were handcuffed to the table, so she would have to get up and walk to his side of the table. Was it even worth it?

"How do you know this stuff, anyway?" she asked.

"Well, that's another secret with a much steeper cost, but I will say this. Draco and I were friends, and I've seen the way he and his father conduct themselves."

Tom's laughing eyes met her frustrated ones. Eventually, she stood up and sighed. She would exchange her dignity for the good of all the people whom the justice system had failed. Walking over to him, she could feel him scanning her body, watching her every move.

She had to let down her hair from its bun, then lean over the table for him to feel it. While she initially found it utterly degrading, there was something about the way his fingers ran through her curls, the way they gently caressed each strand. He stroked it almost as if he had known her before. Tom's hand reached higher and higher, until he almost touched her face. The chains prevented him from reaching further, but he suddenly yanked her hair, pulling her face down, inches from his own.

"The answer you're looking for, yes, Lucius knows. You might even say he encourages it," Tom whispered. "And Hermione, we both know there's no boyfriend. So you owe me one more favor for lying to me last time."

She stumbled away from him.

"Don't worry, I won't force you to do the extra favor now. And also here's a tip free of charge: go talk to Mr. Borgin on Knockturn Alley. He's an interesting character witness for Lucius."

Hermione massaged her temples. How could she both thoroughly study inmate mental health and investigate the warden of those inmates? As a guest in the prison facilities, wasn't that some sort of breach in conduct?

Tom was searching her eyes. His own were light brown- almost golden.

She was still standing, yet she felt as if the air between them was electric. It was almost painful. She felt paralyzed, trapped by his compelling, intense, amber eyes.

"We'll see how much you actually want to change the world, Hermione."

The weather was absolutely insufferable. It made her already unmanageable hair even worse. Sweat slid down her back and thighs. She wiped her sticky forehead and walked faster toward Knockturn Alley. She had discovered Mr. Borgin ran a pawn shop on the south end of the alley, and she was burning with anticipation. The weather, however, was making her almost dizzy.

Eventually, she reached a dark building with a dull, lit-up "Borgin and Burke's" sign. As she entered the shop, she was closely tailed by a scruffy, short man in a loose, stained t-shirt.

He pushed past her and bee-lined toward the shop owner, whom she assumed to be Mr. Borgin.

The scruffy man dropped three telephones in front of Borgin.

"How much is these worth? Reckon' you better give me enough tokens for a hundred-fifty milligrams."

Borgin paused and glanced at Hermione, who pretended she was observing the assortment of items for sale.

"These jail broken, Pettigrew? Last time the phones wouldn't stop ringing. I can't give you tokens if I can't resell them."

Pettigrew desperately pleaded with Borgin that the phones, indeed, were jail broken, and that he would never ever steal. Eventually, Borgin gave in and handed Pettigrew twelve stamped, round tokens that Hermione could not quite make out.

Pettigrew protested, "This'll get me a hundred-twenty! You owe me more!"

Borgin noticed Hermione's open staring and glared at Pettigrew.

"You, get out! Or you won't be getting anything, next time!"

Pettigrew trudged out, slamming the door behind him. Borgin smiled politely at Hermione, revealing a row of scraggly, yellow teeth. Hermione attempted to smile back.

"I'm here about Lucius Malfoy."

Borgin raised his bushy brows.

"I'm here to ask you about Lucius Malfoy," she tried again.

"Well, what about him, girl? You here for tokens? Sorry, but you don't exactly look the type."

"U-um… Actually, I am the type. I want tokens," she stuttered.

"How do you know about Lucius?"

"I work at the prison," she semi-lied, "and I wanted some tokens."

"Oh, I see. You want to resell them. Well, sorry. I won't sell them to you. Ask Lucius for tokens, or better yet, skip the whole token purchase and buy horcrux from him yourself. I don't trust you, girl."

Hermione shakily nodded her head and left.

Horcrux. She didn't feel the heat as she walked home. Her mind was stuck on horcrux and tokens and Lucius Malfoy's role in it all.

What had she walked into? And equally mysterious, what was Tom Riddle's role in this whole mess? How did he know so much, and why was he seemingly giving away his knowledge for free?

 **A/N: heyyy, updated faster than normal, but I really wanted to keep going. If you have time, pleeeease leave a review ily :)))**


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